Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Strinx

Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Strinx

By Moon Weasley

Chapter Twenty-Five:

Secrets

After Ron and Hermione had been levitated to safety, their wands returned and predicament explained (Snape had been his usual sour self bombarding them with questions and threatening with Veritaserum) they had, on Ron's adamant request, headed straight for the kitchens.

Dobby and his army of service-minded house elves had been delighted to see them and had promptly thrown together what could only be described as a spontaneous mini-feast.

Harry had been quite mind-boggled to discover that Hermione had decided to forgo the opportunity to sing the praises of SPEW upon entering the kitchens. In fact she'd been uncharacteristically quiet as the enslaved creatures hurried to and fro offering éclairs, tarts and whatnots all the while bowing and curtseying left and right and shrilly proclaiming their joy of feeding them. At first he'd been kind of stunned that she willingly refrained from preaching about elfish welfare but had soon chalked it up to pure exhaustion.

Hermione did in fact look a bit drained and taking into consideration her rosy cheeks and shiny eyes Harry thought it looked like she might be coming down with the flu or something. But whatever the reason he decided to simply savour the moment. Though he loved his friend dearly Harry enjoyed a silent meal for once, knowing perfectly well that after a good night's sleep, a hearty meal and a look at her revision tables Hermione would be restored to her house-elf liberating, homework nagging and studious self.

Ron had true to his nature eaten his fill and then some purposefully disregarding every common table manner known to man in the process. But he too had been far from his normal cheery self. It might have been just Harry's imagination but he could've sworn Ron had looked a bit peeved after they'd left the dungeons, not that Harry could see that he had any reason to. It was probably just hunger that'd made him scowl, Harry thought with a grin.

As they trotted back to Gryffindor Tower however he did notice Ron and Hermione casting each other furtive looks every other step only to look away blushing when they caught each other at it. Try as he might Harry was unable to decipher the meaning behind this peculiar display. They also seemed sort of overly polite when they spoke and Harry groaned inwardly. They'd been confined together for more than twenty-four hours without food and just that small fire giving them light and he'd eat his Broomstick polishing kit if they'd managed to go the entire time without bickering themselves into a screaming match. They did tend to act sort of stiff and overly polite whenever they'd fought and silently agreed to ignore it afterwards. Harry had fought the urge to giggle as they climbed through the portrait hole. He honestly had the strangest friends.

But whatever it was that had bothered Ron, food had clearly been enough to set things straight because he'd lunged for his bed as soon as they'd reached the dormitory and fallen straight to sleep fully clothed and sprawled awkwardly on top of his blankets. Despite the fact that he was snoring like a small freight train Harry soon followed his example, although he did take the time to both disrobe and take care of his dental hygiene first. Sometimes Ron was just such a slob.

That night Harry fell asleep without any trouble. He welcomed sleep like a starving man welcomes food; eagerly and without questions. After weeks and weeks of near insomnia both his body and mind craved some peaceful slumber and with the exhausting day he'd just lived through it was no wonder he felt dead on his feet.

Realizing that your two best friends had mysteriously vanished from within the castle, hours of fretful worrying, idle searching and torturous waiting - not to mention being subjected to the most disturbing version of The Talk known to wizardkind, could do that to a bloke. Harry prayed he'd never have to live through a day like this ever again. Somehow he didn't think he'd be so lucky...

That night Harry had one of those dreams again.

He was in that room again. Like the times before he could hear the muffled sound of waves hitting rocks reinforcing his belief that Voldemort's hideout was somewhere by the sea. The room was filled with people but still it was deadly quiet. The people all wore black robes and white faceless masks. Many were shifting nervously on the spot and casting fleeting looks towards the high doorway at the other end of the room. The people were Death Eaters and they were waiting for their master.

Not long after the double doors opened soundlessly and the creature known as Lord Voldemort entered the room closely followed by his servant Wormtail. Instantly the Death Eaters got to their knees in a low bow lowering their heads in respect and fright. The Dark Lord walked to a dais adorned in heavy green and silver carpet, stepped onto it and clapped his skeletal hands together.

"Please rise, servants," he commanded and there was a rustle of robes as the many people resumed standing positions. Though their faces were masked their demeanour clearly showed that they were all eager, anticipating something big; something they'd all been waiting for.

"It is time," the Dark Lord began in his high pitched piercing voice, "to show our strength." The Death Eaters all cheered loudly making Voldemort break into a gut-churning evil smile.

"It pleases me to see such eagerness among my followers. Soon you will be rewarded for your loyalty and services. Dumbledore and his foolish Order has thwarted many of our quests in the past, but rest assured this will soon end. We're close to finding the weapon that will finally rid us of the troublesome Harry Potter. With this in our hands the road to victory and control over the entire Wizarding World will be short and sweet."

More cheers broke out. Voldemort gestured to Wormtail who immediately stepped down of the dais and signalled for another person to enter the platform. A Death Eater wearing the trademark mask and his hood securely on top of his head stepped forward.

It was him. The one who would betray him. Cautiously he approached his master.

Voldemort signalled for the cheering to end.

"This day marks the beginning of the end. It is time to show those meddlesome fools who resist us just what we are capable of. It is time we acquired Dumbledore's full attention. The beginning of the end shall start appropriately with the purge of the families of Muggleborn witches and wizards. Soon the Dark Mark shall hover over the roofs of those who've given life to these unworthy members of our society."

He turned towards the hooded and masked betrayer. "I trust you've managed to obtain the requested information?" The hooded person nodded and bowed. "Yes, my lord," he answered in a muffled voice. "I have here everything you need to know." He handed over a stack of parchments and Voldemort eagerly accepted.

"Excellent, my servant," he wheezed gleefully as he ruffled through the heavy stack. "This makes our task much easier. Are you certain that you're ready to perform this act?" he asked shrewdly pinning his slit-like eyes on the masked face in front of him. "After all, this will irrevocably hurt people close to you in ways you may never redeem."

The person hesitated only for the briefest of seconds before he answered. "I am ready."

The Dark Lord nodded happily.

"Then let the purging commence!"

The room erupted in gales of applause and manic cheers before it faded and gave way for a blinding pain.

Harry woke with a start bathed in cold sweat and with the most intense pain in his scar he'd ever remembered experiencing. This did not bode well...

* * *

Breakfast the following morning was a tense affair.

For once Ron had woken before cockcrow only to find that Harry had already left the dormitory. After tossing and turning for a good twenty minutes the only thing he'd achieved was to get his lanky limbs embarrassedly tangled in his own blankets and consequently he spent the next five minutes thereafter struggling to untangle himself.

Finally freed and changed into his school robes Ron found Seamus, Dean and Neville still snoring away happily and was thus forced to venture down to the common room all by his lonesome. He'd descended the stairs with beating heart scanning the room for any sign of bushy hair, mammoth stacks of books or (he shuddered) colour-coded revision tables. He'd found neither. The only students down there was a pair of rowdy third year boys who by the look of things had gotten hold of a pair of Fred and George's fake wands and were duelling fiercely with a limp chicken and a shabby ferret respectively.

Ron didn't quite know if he was relieved or disappointed not to find Hermione there. Perhaps it was a little bit of both he mused as he slumped down in a nearby chair. Even though he'd fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow last night Ron had dreamt of nothing but Hermione, snogging and something else altogether that he wasn't even comfortable thinking about thank you very much.

He blushed at the mere thought and had to coax the tutu-wearing Hagrid out from the back of his mind in order to return certain body parts to their normal state. Sometimes being a teenage boy was bloody murder!

After ten minutes of waiting nervously for either Harry or Hermione to make an appearance, Ron gave up and headed down for breakfast driven by the insane growling sounds coming from his stomach. But as he entered the Great Hall and his eyes fell on the Gryffindor table he knew without a shadow of a doubt that there would be precious little eating going on that morning. She was there!

Ron honestly didn't think food could possibly fit into his stomach given that a swarm of hyperactive butterflies seemed to have taken occupancy in there and were showing no outer signs of leaving any time soon. For a brief moment he seriously considered bolting from the room but nothing came of it. He'd known for a long time that he could never abandon Hermione, not without a damn good reason. Nerves and hormones were not reasons good enough especially considering the events of last night. He had to walk over and sit down right next to her and that was that. Ron just had to figure out how to move his legs!

Hermione was sitting at their usual spot a slice of toast resting limply in one hand and her head buried in the morning edition of The Daily Prophet. It was clear that she hadn't notice him entering the hall. The next moment she raised her head and their eyes met.

Ron felt his face flush unmistakeably crimson and his knees suddenly felt extremely wobbly. It's only Hermione for god's sake he tried to reason only to have his inner voice snort at him.

Yeah that's right, only Hermione who you snogged senseless last night and haven't spoken to since. - smooth Weasley, smooth.

Ron groaned inaudibly and hesitantly began walking towards the table, his eyes still locked with Hermione's. How was he supposed to act around her now? Like nothing had happened or should he rather just sit down and ask her flat out what that was all about? Or perhaps he should just assume they were going out now and swoop down on her with a passionate good-morning-snog?

Somehow none of the options seemed right and when Ron dumped down in the seat next to her he still had no real plan for how he should behave around her. To his consolation it looked as if Hermione was faced with the same predicament.

"Good morning, Ron!" she'd exclaimed with false cheerfulness flashing him a forced, toothy grin. Ron gawked. Hermione never grinned toothily. He was unpleasantly reminded of the way Lockhart had traipsed around in their second year, a falsely charming smile permanently etched to his face. Hermione pulling a Lockhart was very disturbing.

"I trust you've had a good night's sleep and feel recuperated and refreshed," she continued unwaveringly sounding almost as if she was reading out loud from an unfamiliar manuscript. Ron felt very uncomfortable and by the look of things Hermione wasn't faring much better. The toothy grin though had thankfully disappeared. Ron mentally rejoiced. If he never saw that again it would be too soon!

"I'm fine," he mumbled to his plate and made a mad grab for the pitcher of pumpkin juice. He ended up sloshing most of it on his robes. Hermione giggled nervously making Ron stop his half-hearted attempt to wipe away the juice only to stare dumbfounded at her.

Hermione did not giggle.

Ron hurriedly began shovelling toast into his gaping mouth to avoid talking to this strange individual that physically looked exactly like Hermione but acted remarkably like Lavender's sister. The world had certainly tipped on its axis in the last twenty-four hours and Ron had a fairly good idea what had caused the sudden tilt.

His food-shovelling tactic proved to be quite brilliant because for the next ten minutes or so not at word was spoken between them. The situation was far from comfortable though and Ron had never felt more self-conscious in his entire life. His body was also painfully aware of the fact that Hermione was sitting just inches away from him. Now that he actually knew a little about what if felt like to be - intimate - with her Ron had trouble controlling not only his mind from wandering to the more fun parts of their incarceration, but also his traitorous body was to his chagrin reacting in very unfavourable ways. It was highly disturbing having to think about an apron-clad Hagrid when the half-giant was present at the Head Table and Ron soon gave up. Tap-dancing spiders however did the trick.

"Uhm, could you pass me the marmalade, please?"

Still thinking the toast-shovelling was a shoe in to avoid any form of interaction Hermione's innocent request took Ron by complete surprise. He swallowed hard and managed to send the half-chewed batch of toast currently in his mouth down the wrong pipe. The result was a massive coughing fit with accompanying sprays of partially devoured toast hitting a wide radius of people (he was dimly aware of Parvati and a fourth year girl hurrying out of the hall, wiping furiously at their faces) and when he finally got his airways under control he was so thoroughly embarrassed he just wanted to shrink away and hide.

Never the less he managed to pull himself together and with shaking hands he grabbed the jar of marmalade and handed it to Hermione. She smiled shyly and Ron felt himself grinning back at her like a madman. She looked breathtaking, from her messy ponytail to the smudge of ink on her left cheek.

Hermione reached for the jar and for the briefest of seconds their hands touched. It was like being hit with a jet of lightning. His entire body tingled long after Hermione had snatched her hand back. The ink-smudge was now highlighted against a very pink background as Hermione blushed furiously. Ron was so out of it that he didn't even notice that he was stuttering incoherently about Merlin knew what.

It took a few minutes before his heartbeat had been stabilized and his mind sufficiently cleared to stop mumbling gibberish under his breath. His face was still beet red and Hermione still looked flushed but at least they were able to steal a quick glance at each other without acting like squealing lunatics.

If only Harry could see us now, Ron thought with a half-grin. He chanced another look at Hermione and almost suffered a mild coronary when he realized that she was staring right back at him. Their eyes locked and something just clicked into place. This was Hermione for crying out loud. They'd know each other too long to let this little development reduce them to blushing idiots.

They both began laughing at the same time and soon they were doubled over and clutching their stomachs.

"I'm so glad Harry never witnessed this," wheezed Hermione between chuckles. "He'd never stop teasing us." Ron barely managed a nod he was laughing so hard.

Then something extraordinary happened. In the middle of a fresh wave of chuckles Ron suddenly felt Hermione's small hand travelling the length of his arm before reaching his significantly larger one. She laced her fingers with his like it was the most natural thing in the world and Ron marvelled at how utterly right it felt. He felt her squeeze his hand lightly and the gesture rendered him completely speechless. Hermione seemed to sense just what he was feeling because she smiled at him in way Ron had never seen her smile before and he realized that it was a smile that was reserved purely for him.

"Yesterday was lovely," she whispered shyly. Ron broke into what could only be the world's widest grin.

"Yeah," he murmured almost inaudibly feeling an overpowering urge to snog her right there and then. "It was."

He was just about to drag her out of the hall and into the nearest broom closet when a shadow fell over their faces and someone dumped heavily down in the seat across the table. Feeling more than a little peeved Ron glared at the intruder. His glare soon vanished when he saw the pale and drained face of Harry Potter staring back at him.

"What's happened?" asked Ron imploringly all thoughts of snogging momentarily forgotten. There was usually only one issue that left Harry looking like the walking dead and it wasn't Cornish Pixies that much was certain. Hermione seemed to have reached the same conclusion.

"Have there been more attacks?" she asked anxiously. Ron noticed that there wasn't even a trace of pink blush left on her face. "There's nothing in The Daily Prophet." Harry shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of," he said weakly rubbing his hands wearily over his face. "Not yet anyway."

"You've had another one of those dreams about Voldemort, haven't you?" Hermione asked breathlessly and Ron felt his stomach churn when Harry nodded. He absolutely hated it when that happened. Harry was never himself for days afterwards, and who could blame him. He shuddered. Suddenly he was very thankful that his dreams had been of the exact opposite kind, as frustrating as they might be.

"I've been to see Dumbledore," Harry explained as he made a half-hearted attempt at buttering a scone. "Told him the whole freaky thing and he seems to think that what I saw actually happened last night as I was sleeping." With half an hour left before classes began they went in search of an empty classroom. Harry then proceeded to tell Ron and Hermione all about what he'd witnessed.

"Oh my," was all Hermione managed afterwards.

"Indeed," said Harry sarcastically. "In a way this freaky dream-connection's sort of a good thing because it gives us a clue what he's up to. But it doesn't mean shit when we've no idea who's going to be attacked or when it's starting. The Order hasn't got enough members to protect the parents of all Muggleborn students and Fudge is still acting like a complete horses arse when presented with the issue of Voldemort so there's no way for us to get the Aurors to help out."

Harry was pacing the classroom, pulling at his hair as he did so. Ron thought it looked quite painful.

"This is actually worse than the Crucatius Curse," Harry exclaimed in frustration kicking at a desk sending it crashing to the floor. "Now we know what they're up to and yet we're still powerless to protect everyone. Making the choice who to guard is inhuman. I mean who are we to decide which parents are more worthy of protection than others? ot to mention that we're bound to make some mistakes and then people we know will suffer because of it."

He looked at Ron and Hermione with pleading eyes, as if asking them to please take his worries and frustrations away. Unfortunately there was little they could do or say to help matters. Harry had summarized the situation perfectly and it was not looking good.

"My parents?" asked Hermione tremblingly. "Will they be protected?" Without thinking Ron grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Harry didn't notice.

"I don't know, Hermione," he answered truthfully looking honestly heartbroken as he did. "I told Dumbledore I thought it likely your parents might be in more danger because of your connection with me and he said they'll take this under advisement." He laughed mirthlessly. "I guess he said that to let me of the hook so to speak. Perhaps he thought that if I didn't have anything to say about who was protected and not, I wouldn't feel responsible for the outcome."

"Bloody shows how little he knows me," Harry muttered angrily sending another chair crashing to the floor. Hermione looked pale yet collected. "He's right," she said consolingly, "that choice shouldn't be your burden to bear."

"The betrayer," Harry said shakily, "I hate him even more than Voldemort."

Hermione looked somewhat shocked but didn't say anything. Ron however thought he knew what Harry meant. Voldemort played with open cards; everyone knew what his agenda was. The betrayer however was leading a double life; living a lie. He or she was a bloody coward, and Ron had very little patience with that kind of scum.

"Let's just cross our fingers and pray," said Hermione soothingly. "There's not much else we can do, is there?" Harry shrugged and went to straighten out the upturned desk. "Sure, it can't hurt," he said listlessly. "I'm just not convinced it'll make any difference. Lady Luck hasn't really been too generous with us lately."

Ron and Hermione couldn't argue with that.

* * *

Harry stayed silent and brooding all day. By the time they broke for lunch it was quite evident that his thoughts were anywhere but on his schoolwork. Harry had been so absorbed in his own musings that he'd failed to notice professor McGonagall calling on him to demonstrate how to transfigure a bowler hat into a crystal bowl. She might have been inclined to overlook a moment of daydreaming but when he topped it off by failing miserably at his transfiguration (the bowler was beyond repair) the deputy headmistress had broken into a harsh scolding and deducted five points for "inattentiveness and vandalism".

He didn't fare much better in Herbology and ended up having to go to the hospital wing in order for Madam Pomfrey to heal a nasty bruise he'd acquired from a Violent Violet that'd had taken advantage of his inattentiveness and tried to strangle him with one of its many lethal leaves.

Madam Sprout had to dash off to greenhouse number nine and get a large can of Dr Parson's Plant Paralyzer in order to sedate the offending plant and pry a, by then, faint blue Harry away from the dangerous vines.

Harry returned in time for lunch with only a pale greenish line around his neck as evidence of his near fatal demise. The worst gossipmongers had true to their nature already begun spreading rumours about the morning's incidents concerning The Boy Who Lived. Malfoy in particular looked to be having a right good time over at the Slytherin table were he appeared to be playing out a highly exaggerated version of Harry's encounter with the Violent Violet to his fellow house-mates howling enjoyment. Harry however was too engrossed in his inner turmoil to either notice or care.

Hermione could only imagine what was going on inside Harry's head. Judging by the deep frown on his forehead and the haunted look in his eyes it was clear that he was in a bad state over this. And she couldn't really blame him. It just had to be awful witnessing Voldemort and his Death Eaters plotting the murders of parents of Muggleborns and not finding out who would be attacked. Harry probably felt helpless and useless, and she knew him well enough to know that there was nothing he hated more.

She winced just thinking about what were to come. Thank goodness wards had been set up around her parent's house the previous summer after Ron's attempted kidnapping otherwise she too would be going spare with worry. Bill and Moody had been in charge of the operation and Hermione trusted their abilities with her life. Her parents would be just fine. But other Muggleborn students might not be so lucky and before long Hermione feared one or more of their fellow students would be orphaned. It was a depressing thought indeed.

As lunch progressed it was clear that Harry would not rejoin the land of the cheerful that day. Ron had tried every trick up his sleeve from Malfoy bashing to (to Hermione's disgust) crude jokes but without desired result. Harry had retreated deep into himself and was in all likelihood doing a bang up job of blaming himself and feeling thoroughly guilty about the impending attacks.

Hermione swallowed the urge to give him a stern lecture about how he was not to blame and how this brooding was just worsening the situation. Though she knew she was right experience had taught her that preaching logic to Harry when in this state was about as productive as nagging Ron about doing his homework when he'd much rather play chess. Pointless in other words unless you fancied being yelled at for being a nagging busybody.

Speaking of Ron. Hermione blushed prettily and stole a quick glance at her other best friend. Having given up on coaxing a laugh out of Harry he'd turned his attention back to his beloved food and appeared to be totally engrossed in the devouring of a monstrous sandwich.

As if he could sense her staring at him he looked up to meet her eyes and smiled lopsidedly. Hermione returned the smile and a scant three seconds later she felt his large hand clumsily grab her own under the table. Startled she choked on her pumpkin juice and began coughing uncontrollably. Immediately Ron's hand left hers and next thing it was patting her on the back a tad to hard for Hermione's liking.

"Ouch, not so hard," she wheezed in between strangled coughs.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled and although she was too preoccupied wringing her lungs out she knew he'd turned a lovely scarlet colour.

"Here, drink a glass of water," he offered and hastily grabbed the water pitcher. Next thing Parvati and Lavender were shrieking like mad as ice cold water dripped from their faces.

"I can't believe it!" exclaimed Parvati in disbelief. "That's the second time today that you've manage to cover me in parts of your meal. Honestly, what's with you today?"

Ron muttered something unintelligible and offered her his napkin. Parvati reluctantly accepted but continued to glare murderously at him for the rest of the meal. Lavender had the good sense to use a drying spell on herself and soon returned to her meal. But as the meal progressed Ron felt as if someone was staring at him. Reluctantly he tore his attention away from the huge roast sandwich he was devouring and caught Lavender staring at him with narrowed eyes. Ron gulped and looked away feeling his ears redden.

Lavender might be a bit on the dim side but she was an expert at spotting new relationships if what Seamus was saying held any water. Ron quickly dismissed the notion. Seamus was a great guy and all but he was full of shit most of the time.

Little did Ron know that Seamus had for once done someone justice. Lavender prided herself for her uncanny ability to spot budding romances before anyone else even had as much as a faint inkling. This was a natural part of her great gift as a Divinator and she was quite proud of the fact that Professor Trelawney had agreed to take her on as an apprentice after finishing Hogwarts. She would be training with the best and she was rather gleeful of the fact that she was the first student in her year to have snatched a job or apprenticeship.

Hermione would be devastated when she found out, she thought wickedly. She let her eyes travelled to the girl in question and Lavender snorted silently. Hermione was pretending not to notice her dorm mate's inquisitive stare but her body language told a different story. Lavender smiled excitedly. We'll talk later she decided and turned her attention back to a distressed Parvati who still hadn't thought of using a drying charm.

Supreme divination power or not, Lavender wasn't the only one who suspected something. In her haste to avoid Lavender Hermione had turned her attention to the girl sitting a few seats down and had instantly regretted it.

Ginny Weasley knew!

She was looking straight at her, a knowing look on her face and wearing the biggest smirk Hermione had ever seen. She looked from Hermione to Ron and back again raising her eyebrows questioningly. Hermione swallowed hard and averted her eyes. She heard Ginny snicker quietly and cursed inwardly. Mortified she silently thanked the heavens that at least Harry wasn't as observant though it was probably just a matter of time before rumours would start to fly and he'd cotton on.

Abruptly she got up and grabbed her book bag.

"What's up?" Ron asked with a frown.

"I suddenly remembered something I have to do," she replied briskly.

"What then? Not more bloody practise exams I hope. Damn Hermione, you've done every single one at least five times already."

"Mind your language, Ron," she responded automatically silently marvelling that she still bothered. It was clear as glass that Ron would never stop swearing even if his life depended on it. And in a crazy, half-deranged mental kind of way Hermione didn't want him to. Because then he wouldn't really be Ron anymore and she'd fallen for him, filthy pirate tongue and all and wouldn't dream of having him behave any other way. Not that she'd ever tell him that, heaven forbid.

"Rest assured Ronald, that it's not revision of any kind," she said haughtily a bit offended that he seemed to loathe her revision schedules to such an extent. Honestly he should be grateful that she even bothered making one for him, the lazy git.

Deciding that this was not the time to chide him about his lack of academic ambition, she gave him an imploring look that she hoped he would understand. "But if you don't mind I would greatly appreciate you coming with me. There's something I'd rather discuss with you."

"Oh, alright," said Ron looking suddenly rather green. As he scooped up a handful of sandwiches in a napkin and gathered his schoolbooks Hermione briefly caught Ginny's eye and blushed crimson.

"Behave yourself," said the redhead with evident amusement making Ron whirl around and gape stupidly at his sister.

"What's that supposed to mean," he asked sounding sort of panicked something which only succeeded in broadening Ginny's smirk.

Hermione felt something constrict painfully in her chest. Ginny wouldn't say anything would she? This was not the way she intended for anyone and especially not Harry to find out about Ron and her. If there even was a Ron and her to find out about. He'd kissed Lavender without even liking her, so chances were that he'd kissed her too without really having real feelings for her. He was a teenage boy after all and she'd read somewhere that in many cases it was hormones and not feelings that directed their actions.

But Ron's not like that an inner voice said comfortingly. Hermione bit her lip as she watched Ron turning pale under Ginny's teasing eyes. If he didn't fancy her then why did he spend all of Transfiguration holding her hand under the desk?

And in Herbology he'd actually given her a Pensive Petunia that he'd nicked from professor Sprout's private flowerbed. Sure, the plant was highly toxic and dangerous unless handled with the utmost delicacy but as she seriously doubted Ron had even opened his Herbology book this term, he probably didn't know that. It was the thought that counted after all and the gesture had left her thoroughly flushed for the remainder of the class. It was a wonder Harry hadn't picked up any of this despite his gloomy state. If there was one thing Ron Weasley wasn't then it was subtle.

Like now for instance. Anyone who knew Ron could see that he was in a state of full blown panic and deep mortification. Ginny seemed to revel in it Hermione noted irritably.

"Nothing, Ronniekins," said Ginny sweetly. "Just mind you don't make Hermione late for class. If you're smart you'll choose a location close to your next lesson."

By now Ron's arms were flailing in all directions and he was spluttering incoherently about ruddy sisters and Merlin knew what. Though Hermione shared his sentiments (and told Ginny so with one of her infamous Death Glares) she wasn't interested in staying her a moment longer. She was pretty certain no one had been paying attention to the interaction between the Weasley siblings, but Ron's reaction was beginning to draw some unwanted attention. Even Harry looked mildly curious and with great difficulty she managed to drag a near frantic Ron out of the Great Hall.

"That Ginny!" he roared once safely out in the Entrance Hall. "She was, I mean, how did she know about... Did you tell her?"

Dragging Ron along Hermione shook her head.

"No, I haven't said a word to anyone. Not about that..."

"Oh," answered Ron weakly. It suddenly seemed to have hit him that they were in fact talking about what had happened the night before.

"Er, then how did she know?"

"Female intuition I guess," Hermione said vaguely stopping in front of a door. "She is your sister after all, she probably knows you better than you'd like. And I hate to burst your bubble but you're not exactly blessed with a poker face."

"What's a poker face?" Ron asked sounding horribly offended. Hermione grinned. "Never you mind. Now get in." She opened the door and pushed a struggling Ron into -"

"A broom cupboard!" Ron exclaimed in outrage. "Are you trying to give Ginny more ammunition or something?"

"Hardly," she answered curtly giving him a firm shove on the back. He stumbled in sending several mops crashing to the floor and Hermione quickly stepped in behind him and closed the door. "I just want to talk to you before our next class and seeing as it's just fifteen minutes away I didn't fancy spending most of it looking for another place, alright."

Ron had by now perched the fallen mops back against the wall and was looking around the small room with what looked like mild curiosity.

"Hey, I've been in here before!" he exclaimed grinning broadly. Hermione felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach.

"Oh, I didn't know that," she said in the most indifferent tone she could muster. Honestly, what did she care if he'd been snogging some random girl in this broom cupboard, or any broom cupboard for that matter?

"Yeah, this is were me and Harry hid Crabbe and Goyle that time in second year when we drugged them and stole their hair to use in that foul-smelling, gut-churning batch of Polyjuice that you brewed in Myrtle's loo." He chuckled. "How we all fitted in here is beyond me. I mean Crabbe and Goyle are huge!"

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and laughed in relief. "I'd forgotten about that," she said with a small smile. She dropped her heavy book bag to the floor, gathered her courage and looked up at Ron. He was staring at her with such intensity and she felt a tingle spread throughout her body. Somehow she just knew he wasn't thinking about Crabbe and Goyle anymore...

"Er, I sort of wanted to talk to you about, er..."

This was more difficult than she'd imagined. She bit her lip nervously and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She heard Ron suck in a breath and she watched as in slow motion his hand reaching over to cover her own.

"Did you want to talk about this?" asked Ron huskily nodding towards their clasped hands. Hermione nodded unable to actually say it out loud.

"I don't want to talk," whispered Ron taking a step towards her.

Hermione was suddenly aware of the fact that her body was shivering despite the warmth in the air. He was leaning towards her and she knew with every fibre of her being that he was going to kiss her.

"We should tell Harry," she mumbled half-heartedly.

"We will," Ron assured her, his breath tickling her sensitive chin. "Later..."

They arrived for Charms three minutes late and were deducted five points each. Neither of them cared.

Six days later and Ron and Hermione still hadn't told Harry about their newfound change of status.

There had been no news good or bad about the Muggleborn situation and it was slowly killing Harry from the inside. Aside from being extraordinary introvert he also had trouble concentration on is schoolwork something which had led to extra homework in almost every subject. He hardly ate anything and he was snappish and short with his friends. Somehow Hermione didn't think he'd be too receptive to news about their newfound relationship. She'd told Ron so and after a fair amount of pouting on his part they'd decided to wait until Harry's mood had taken a turn for the positive before laying all the cards on the table.

In the mean time they spent every available moment sneaking off for a secret snog. As time passed their excuses became increasingly flimsier ("The house elves messed up Hermione's laundry and seeing as she's so taken with them she can't bring herself to yell at any of them so I'm tagging along to do her dirty work.") and all in all it was nothing short of a small feat that Harry hadn't cottoned on by now.

Ron had never been particularly good at masking his emotions and Hermione had to her astonishment realized that when it came to matters of the heart she wasn't much better. She could disregard rules and deliver half-truths and even down right lies if it involved Harry and the messes that usually followed him. But as soon as the secret involved Ron and the sort of activities they engaged in various broom closets all over the castle she was about as uncollected as Moaning Myrtle on one of her toilet flushing days.

But even if Harry was oblivious other people certainly wasn't. She'd been put through a very tiresome third degree interrogation by Lavender and Parvati a few nights ago and even though she'd admitted nothing her blazing cheeks had been all the answer they needed. She'd gone to bed that night to the ringing of her room mates' shrill giggles.

Hermione had walked into the Great Hall the next morning her stomach all twisted into a very painful knot fearing that rumours would already be circling the school. To her surprise nothing happened and when there hadn't been so much as a whisper several days later Hermione had thanked her room mates for their discretion the only way she could: By allowing them to perform a total make over something they'd been begging to do for years. She had to admit that the result had been quite flattening but to Lavender and Parvati's huge disappointment she'd dressed the following morning without adding the newly taught beauty charms. Hermione thought she'd save those for another time...

Ginny however hadn't been as easily satisfied. Knowing that the youngest Weasley was on to their secret Hermione had gone out of her way to avoid being alone with her in the days following Ron and hers entrapment. It had gone remarkably well she thought; too well she realized in hindsight.

Hermione swore to never again underestimate Ginny Weasley.

Hermione had been leisurely swimming around in the lovely pool in the prefect's bathroom thoroughly enjoying the relaxation brought by the lavender scented bubble foam, when she'd been startled by the slam of a door.

"Hello?" Hermione called out tentatively. She was sure she'd locked that door securely and activated the "occupied" charm on the painting that hid the entrance. It was silently agreed upon among the prefects not to disturb each other when occupied and her heart raced nervously as she strained to see who'd entered the room.

"Hello? The bath is occupied I'm afraid," she said feeling more than a little foolish. "I thought I locked the door, I'm really sorry. Could you come back in about half an hour or so?"

"No I'm afraid not," answered a familiar voice. Hermione swore inwardly.

"How did you get in here? This bathroom is reserved for prefects and prefects only. You don't qualify and entering requires a password. How on earth did you get that?"

"Hello, Hermione," Ginny said conversationally perching herself on the edge of the pool. She crossed her legs and leaned back resting her weight on her arms. "I just learned that Dean Thomas is easily tricked when subjected to female charms. Enjoying the bubbles?"

"Well," said Hermione tersely swimming briskly for the ladder," I was but now I think it's time to get going. I'm starting to prune. And what exactly do you mean by "female charms"? You didn't you know, eh, snog him to get the password did you? Your mother would be terribly upset with you if she knew."

Ginny laughed softly. "Are you implying that I would cheat on my boyfriend? I can assure you that I'm not that morally corrupted. Finished with your bath already? What's your hurry?"

"Oh there's no hurry," Hermione answered as she stepped off the ladder and onto the cool tile floor. She grabbed a towel and her bath robe and dried herself quickly. "I just want to head back to the common room and add a few inches to my Transfiguration essay. For extra credit," she added sourly.

Ginny laughed again. "I don't think so," she said casually and flicked her wand in the direction of the door locking it with a personalized locking charm.

"What are you doing?" Hermione demanded in a shrill voice. Naturally she knew exactly what Ginny was up to and she was starting to panic. Ginny smiled a smile eerily reminiscent to that of Fred and George when on the warpath and Hermione cringed. She was trapped and there was only one way of escaping: Making admissions.

Sighing heavily she sank down into the stack of velvety cushions by the pool side. "What do you want to know?"

Ginny grinned wolfishly and made a huge number of wringing her hands in glee. "Everything!"

And when Ginny Weasley said everything she meant everything. Hermione had been forced to deliver a very detailed description of the events leading up to their first kiss as well as their current status. She had altered between complete mortification, extreme embarrassment and girly joy at finally having someone to share these things with. At one point Ginny actually had to interrupt Hermione claiming that the more delicate details of her brother's kissing abilities wasn't something she needed or wanted to know about.

"You're so lucky," Ginny had said dreamily a wistful look on her face when Hermione had shared all there was to share and then some.

"Yes," Hermione had agreed, "I guess I am. But then again so are you. You've got Max."

Ginny had pursed her lips together in a strained half smile and closed her eyes. "Yeah, I've got Max..."

* * *

Ginny returned to the fourth year dormitory with mixed feelings. She was elated that her suspicions about Ron and Hermione had been confirmed yet at the same time she felt oddly deflated. Hermione was just so damned - happy. She'd been pining away for that prat for ages and now that they'd finally gotten together she was positively glowing. How Harry was able to miss the obvious signs was far beyond her comprehension.

Harry.

For some reason her thoughts always seemed to came back to Harry. Sighing heavily Ginny quickly changed into her night gown and after a swift visit to the bathroom she climbed into her four poster bed and closed the hangings. She snuggled deep into her blankets and extinguished the light with a flick of her wand. However sleep would not come to her.

Half an hour of tossing and turning later Ginny scrambled into a sitting position and with a quiet "Lumos" she lit the tip of her wand. Reaching under her pillow she extracted an old and battered-looking leather bound book. She opened it carefully making sure not to tear the old and frail parchment and familiar fingers easily found the desired page.

As always when she gave in to the desire to peruse this particular tome, Ginny felt her cheeks burn in a combination of shame and exhilaration. Shame because of the way that she'd acquired it and exhilaration because of its contents.

The first time she'd laid eyes on the spine of the book it had called out to her and she'd been unable to resist the temptation of looking through it. To this day Ginny had no real notion of why; there was nothing extraordinary about it - it looked just like any other book. Still she'd felt as if the book had been calling out to her, urging her to take it. Taking into consideration her dismal past experience with alluring books one should think she'd known better, but clearly being possessed by the memory of a young Voldemort had done nothing to her sense of judgement.

With a cringe Ginny thought about what her dad would say if he ever found out. Somehow she suspected she would be in for something far worse that her mother's Howlers...

Pushing all thoughts about the strange way the book seemed to call out to her Ginny carefully turned to the desired chapter. However much she looked at this particular section of the book its contents always induced the same reaction in her - pure wonder. It really is astonishing Ginny thought in awe tracing her index finger carefully over the image on the yellowed page in front of her. The resemblance was uncanny and the first time she'd seen it she'd almost stopped breathing. Once she'd attained the book to her keeping she'd been even more enticed by what was written in it.

Everything fits so perfectly, Ginny thought wistfully burrowing deeper into her pillows. For the umpteenth time she let her eyes scan over the words that had been forever embedded on her mind.

Helga Hufflepuff was in her time first and foremost known for her artistic talents rather than her academic and educational merits. Being one of the four Hogwarts Founders historians have tended to overlook this aspect of her life and to this date few know about Hufflepuff's true passion in life. Seeing how little emphasis her artistic side has attained it is therefore not surprising that her special gift as a Drawing Divinator had received very little focus.

It took Helga Hufflepuff years before she realized that the paintings she created more often than not were a premonition of things to come. She had confessed to her sister Helena Hufflepuff that she often felt as if someone took control of her brush or pencil and created works of art that she had not intended to make.

To this date there are still a few works that she herself classified as "created in trance" that has yet to come to pass. This book includes copies of several of these images. None have yet to decipher what these drawings are meant to predict.

Ginny let her eyes sweep over the sketch on the opposite page, feeling an eerie prickle in her spine. I think I have a fair idea about this though, she thought with a shudder. As always her eyes travelled to one face in particular and for a full minute all she did was stare. Finally she snapped out of her reverie and abruptly flipped the page over.

The next section of the book was dedicated to several of Helga Hufflepuff's prophecies. Although she by now knew the words by heart reading one particular prophecy always made her breath catch.

The Prophecy of the Strinx.

Ginny skimmed through it for what had to be close to the hundredth time. It really does seem to fit, she once again mused. She stopped at one particular passage.

...Lastly but most importantly the Strinx. The Strinx is a true seer. This person will have the ability to See the future for a person he or she is linked to through a life-altering act.

Well, she had been experiencing an overwhelming amount of hunches about events concerning Harry lately. Ginny had no real notion about why or how she knew the things she did, it just sort of came to her instinctively though she had on one or two occasions fallen into sort of a trance. The funny thing was that these forewarnings or whatever she should call them were always about Harry. Never about Ron, Hermione, the twins or even herself (and Merlin's Beard knew she could've used it now and again!) And they did sort of have a life-altering link, she reasoned. Harry had after all saved her from the Chamber of Secrets and she definitely owed him a Wizard's debt or more for that one.

The link is manifested by a mark that will identify and acknowledge the bond between them. This mark will show itself only when it is time for the Strinx to return the favour. The Unagi will be released as a direct consequence of a severe and irreversible betrayal of what is believed to be a trusted ally.

As far as Ginny knew she had no new marks of any kind aside from a bruised knee having fallen awkwardly during Defence against the Dark Arts last Thursday when Luna Lovegood had gotten one over her during duelling practice. The lack of any such mark could of course be a sign that she wasn't Harry's Strinx after all but then again it could just as easily mean that the time to pay her debt had yet to arrive.

What the Unagi was supposed to be the book didn't say. The book did however give another rather fascinating bit of information about the relationship between the Heir to Gryffindor and his Strinx. Ginny blushed as she read and reread her favourite part of Helga Hufflepuff's long forgotten prophecy.

The Heir to Gryffindor and his Strinx are true soul mates. They are destined for each other and share a love so pure it cannot be denied. Either may try to turn to others but neither will ever find comfort or love. Ancient Magic has sealed their fate and if they cannot be together they will be forever alone.

Ginny sighed. As time had passed she'd become more and more convinced about her role as Harry's Strinx and for a short while she'd felt as if Harry and she were slowly growing closer. At first she'd been elated and ecstatic. But as time passed fear and doubt had begun to cloud her mind. Fear because of the intensity of her emotions whenever she was around him. She could sense his presence long before she saw him and every now and then it was as if she could hear his thoughts and feel his emotions as if they were her own.

But it was also fear that she might be wrong. Maybe she wasn't the Strinx after all? Maybe she was just building it all up in her mind, creating a world and a set of emotions that really wasn't there to begin with. It was all really confusing and Ginny had found it easier to shy away from Harry then to deal with these issues.

It had proved rather difficult avoiding Harry and finally Ginny had devised a plan so clever she had quite astounded herself: She'd begun dating Max. It was the perfect excuse to stay out of Harry's way and because she knew Harry didn't much care for the German exchange student he pretty much did all he could to avoid her too. And secondly going out with Max would be the perfect way of testing the prophecy's claim that the Heir and the Strinx could not be romantically involved with other people.

Today marked her and Max's one week anniversary. It was exactly one week since she'd let him kiss her down by the lake and even if she'd tried to prepare herself for the possibility that this prophecy wasn't about her at all Ginny still felt immensely disappointed and heartbroken. True it had only been a week but so far there was no sign of anything preventing her from continuing her relationship with Max. Max seemed perfectly happy with the current situation and Harry... Ginny felt her stomach clutch tightly. Harry hadn't said or done anything to suggest that he disapproved of her choice.

When she finally extinguished her wand with a whispered "Nox" twenty minutes later Ginny fell into a restless sleep her cheeks all tearstained and feeling quite certain that she wasn't the Strinx after all and that Harry and she was never meant to be.

* * *

Ron was always happy to reach the weekend. Weekends usually represented some well deserved freedom to do just as he pleased, or at least it did so up till the point where Hermione's colour coded revision tables swooped in and claimed the right to boss him off to the library whenever she felt he needed it (which for bizarre reasons seemed to be quite often). This was why Ron could now be found bleary eyed and yawning with his head resting on top of his second-hand copy of One thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi at seven bloody thirty on a Saturday morning.

Hermione was not pleased with his performance.

"Honestly Ron," she whispered shrilly and poked him in the chin with her quill. "The information will not leap into your head if that's what you're hoping for."

"Very amusing," said Ron followed by a very long yawn. "And why is it that I have to spend a Saturday morning here whereas Harry is still laying contentedly all snuggled into his blankets having a well deserved lie-in? With the amount of extra homework he's accumulated this week he's the one who needs to be here and not me."

He added a pout to his whining performance earning a roll of the eyes from Hermione.

"I know Harry needs to catch up with his schoolwork," said Hermione evenly dipping her quill in her ink bottle. "But we both know what state he's been in ever since he had that dream of his. Knowing Harry he won't be able to concentrate on anything until that's been resolved and we've no way of knowing when that might be. Until then I think it's best for him to get as much rest as possible."

Ron shrugged. "I guess you're right," he mumbled. "Harry has been a right grouch this week."

"Ron!" Hermione admonished sternly.

"Well, he has," he countered defiantly shredding his robes and rolling them into a ball. He laid them on the table and promptly burrowed his head into it.

"Ah, that's much better! And before you get all huffy on me I do understand that he's going through a rough patch. I mean honestly who wouldn't if they had disturbing visions in their dreams that told them what Voldemort's planning but not when or who his plans will affect."

Hermione looked like she'd like to interrupt him but Ron made a point of ignoring her. "But I know from experience that Harry will only sink deeper and deeper into depression if he's left to his own devises. That is why I think instead of treating him like a ticking bomb we should treat him like we normally would during the weekend."

He turned his head slightly and grinned wickedly up at her. "You know, you waking him at the crack of dawn and assaulting him with scary revision tables and mock tests, me viciously beating him in a game of wizard's chess, the three of us taking a walk around the lake after lunch, me and Harry eating our weight in chocolate frogs, me and you telling him everything that happened when we were trapped deep under the dungeons..."

"What!?" Hermione shriek earning a few annoyed hushing sounds from a nearby table occupied solely by a bunch of very studious looking seventh year Ravenclaws. She blushed prettily, Ron assumed as a result of both embarrassment for yelling in the library and because he'd dared mention The Secret.

"But, but we can't tell him that," whispered Hermione frantically. "I mean, we agreed not to tell him until this whole Muggleborn situation was resolved."

Ron sighed deeply raising his head to look her in the eyes. "No, Hermione, we did not agree to any such thing. I clearly remember voicing my objections but as always you wouldn't relent and I temporarily decided to let you have your way, well because I got sidetracked..."

He flashed her a maddening grin. "You played dirty that day you little devil. Snogging me senseless to have your way..." He tisked.

"Ron," Hermione pleaded under her breath casting nervous glances in all directions. "Someone might hear you."

"So what?" he challenged stoutly. "I don't bloody care who knows about us. I for one think Harry would be pleased for us if he knew, and if he isn't well then he isn't really much of a friend anyway."

"It's not that I don't agree with you," began Hermione in a soft voice. "It's just that given his current situation I'm sort of afraid that this whole thing will leave him feeling, well-"

"Left out? Alone? Jealous of the fact that we have each other and he doesn't have anyone like that?" Ron reached out and grabbed Hermione's hand rubbing it affectionately.

"Yeah..." Hermione swallowed hard. "His life is complicated enough as it is. I don't want to make it worse in any way."

"Me neither, 'Mione but we can't really put our lives on hold just because Harry might feel a twinge of envy or whatever his reaction might be. And besides secrets have a way of creeping into the open no matter how hard one tries to hide it. I'd rather he heard it from us that from someone else because I somehow suspect that Harry won't take it in stride if he finds out we've been sneaking around behind his back."

"I know you're right," said Hermione quietly. "And before you get all cocky and start strutting around the place, yes I know it's a rare feat me admitting I'm wrong and no you can't have it in writing."

Ron grinned widely and puffed his chest out in a very annoying way. Hermione scoffed but couldn't help that the corners of her mouth twitched slightly. He was a complete prat, but at least he was her prat.

"We'll tell him as soon as he's awake, alright?" she said with a sigh.

"Brilliant!" said Ron sounding unearthly pleased. Sneaking around had it's perks but he wanted to be able to touch her whenever he felt like it and not have to think about where they were or who might be witnessing it.

At that moment someone dumped into the seat next to Ron and he jerked in surprise.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed a tad to loudly once again setting those irritatingly bookish Ravenclaws into a wave of hushing. Ron also noticed that her cheeks had gone all crimson again.

"Morning," Harry managed between two enormous yawns. "Who're you telling what as soon as he's awake?" he asked indifferently as he pulled a random book out of his bag and put it one the table. He proceeded to rub his eyes and therefore missed the horror-stricken looks shared by his friends. Ron gulped audibly and Hermione made a whole-hearted attempt to look engulfed in her book.

"What's with you guys?" Harry asked sounded mildly curious. Ron opened his mouth, closed it and opened it again but no sound came out. He had no idea how he was supposed to tell him their secret and seeing as Hermione had buried her nose in her book again it was apparent that she thought it was his task to do so.

Harry winced slightly and gingerly put his hand to his forehead. Ron seized the opportunity to change the subject.

"Is it your scar?" he asked slowly and felt his heart skip a beat when Harry nodded.

"Yeah, it keeps throbbing and I just know I had one of those awful nightmares again because I woke up with a gasp all covered in cold sweat only I can't for the life of me remember what it was I dreamt about."

He laughed mirthlessly and Hermione couldn't help but shudder at the sound. It wasn't fair that Harry should have to live through all this, she thought with a heavy heart.

"I know one thing though," said Harry dully, "something awful has happened."

"Oh no," croaked Ron looking quite pale in the morning light. "The Muggleborns' parents?" Harry nodded. Hermione was beyond words.

They sat in stunned silence for a few minutes neither knowing what to say or do next. Suddenly a shadow fell over their table and all three turned to see who it was that had approached them. Professor McGonagall stood there an unreadable look on her face. Harry felt his stomach drop as realisation suddenly hit him and memories of his dream came crashing back.

"Ms. Granger," said their head of house with uncharacteristic tenderness. "Could you please accompany me to my office?"

Ron only just managed to catch her before she hit the floor unconscious.